


This Is Not an Exit

by Patron-Saint (freddieseyeliner)



Series: Blood from Hell in my veins [3]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Binge Drinking, F/F, Found Family, M/M, gratuitous 90s music references, midlife crisis at 24
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29280948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddieseyeliner/pseuds/Patron-Saint
Summary: Gerard’s first thought when Frank opened the door was that he didn’t like their sofa. His head was at just the right angle that he could see past Frank and Ray and into their living room. It was needle thin brown corduroy stretched over gargantuan lumps of uneven stuffing. There was a threadbare spot on the left arm where it had been worn down.If he really put some thought into it, Gerard supposed, he was looking at the sofa because he couldn’t look at what was in front of him.But not looking at things, like the sun or the edge of a cliff, very often ended in injury. In blistered red skin or a long hard fall.Or a punch in the face.Gerard felt the sharp pain in his jaw, and the hollow thud sound it made, before he saw anything..Title from Saves the Day song of the same name..Rating may change.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Lindsey Ballato/Jamia Nestor
Series: Blood from Hell in my veins [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780069
Comments: 32
Kudos: 40





	1. the life of a matador (sorry about the china cups)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck around. Getting this chapter up has been difficult to say the least. I'm feeling so burnt out and overwhelmed by the pandemic and cut off from my friends. I know it's only temporary but it has been hard to find any motivation lately. I'm lucky that my living situation allows me to practice bass and guitar whenever I want so that has been a nice break from the world around me. All of your guys' support the last month has been so sweet and convinced me to start writing again. I really do love working on this fic and I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> Please note this is the third installment of this series. The other two are necessary to read to know what is going on :)

Gerard’s first thought when Frank opened the door was that he didn’t like their sofa. His head was at just the right angle that he could see past Frank and Ray and into their living room. It was needle thin brown corduroy stretched over gargantuan lumps of uneven stuffing. There was a threadbare spot on the left arm where it had been worn down. 

If he really put some thought into it, Gerard supposed, he was looking at the sofa because he couldn’t look at what was in front of him. 

He made Mikey wait in the car with him for ten minutes, watching Ray and Frank in the kitchen, before he had the courage to knock. He’d seen the way Mikey’s carefully crafted expression of boredom had slipped off as he opened the car door- he was surprised. They’d had a routine for the last month you see.

They’d both sleep in until two or three in the afternoon and eventually roll out of bed for coffee, cigarettes and breakfast (the contents of which very much depended upon the consumer). They’d watch TV for a bit and then head into town from the suburbs. They’d get groceries (pancake mix, frozen pizzas, sheep’s blood from the local butchers, twizzlers) and hang around for a bit. Gerard occasionally darted into a comic book shop with sunglasses and a hood. Then they’d drive back home. And it was  _ home.  _

Donna and Arthur Way had died a few years prior in a tragic car crash leaving their house to their two children. Although it had been temporarily empty during the whole  _ we’re both vampires thing  _ it now found itself with its two regular inhabitants. Gerard did sometimes wonder if their mother would be angry that they auctioned off her old (very creepy) doll collection as neither he nor his brother particularly felt like getting jobs to buy groceries and cigarettes. He asked Mikey one day what he thought and they settled on the fact that she wouldn’t be angry, just  _ disappointed.  _

After they settled back in for the evening Gerard, much to the annoyance of Mikey, would always insist upon  _ testing.  _ Mikey’s exasperation came as, for the last three months, they had tested. And tested. And tested. And tested.

It was easy enough to confirm Mikey was a human- a beating heart will do that to you. But it was much harder to figure out what exactly had happened to Gerard. 

Mikey was terrified, a strong combination of Gerard’s unmoving form, the razor blade in the sink and feeling his own heart for the first time in a year, but he’d soon realized Gerard wasn’t bleeding. He hadn’t done anything.

Relief pooled in his brain all warm and chlorinated as Gerard’s eyes began to open. 

The nearest the two of them could figure, as they sat on the bathroom floor with tear streaked cheeks, was that the cure had worked- there was only one human. It had taken whatever small amount of life force vampires had from Gerard and transferred it to Mikey- apparently enough to make him human. This left Gerard, well, ultra-dead (Gerard thought that was a good name for a band,  _ Ultradead,  _ Mikey did not). Dawn sunlight filtered into the room before either could make a move for the curtains. Nothing happened.

It was with shaking hands Gerard opened the motel room door. 

For the first time in a year they felt the sun on their skin. It felt nice.

Gerard figured it was like moving up a class in DnD. He was basically a more powerful vampire now. Sunlight didn’t affect him, he didn’t have to be invited into anyone’s home, he fished his Grandmother’s old rosary out of his duffel bag and clutched it in his hands without flinching.

Not all of it was obvious right away. 

It took two months of him pushing his hair out of his eyes to notice it was growing. He had never changed as a vampire; they remained in stasis- immortal. He almost cried looking at the long strands in the mirror. He was aging; he wasn’t trapped in a prison of immortality. If luck had it he would die old with his friends and family. 

Through their testing they found out that, although Gerard still needed blood, an animal’s was enough to sustain him. 

The only lingering effects of his vampirism were the sharp teeth and cold skin. He looked over at Mikey’s human form- the trade off was more than worth it.

But he was scared- thought the universe might realize they had finally,  _ fucking finally,  _ been given a good hand and recant it. So they tested. Gerard would walk into the sun- he was fine, he would say prayers with his rosary in hard- he was fine, he would walk into a store without someone inviting him- he was fine. He was fine but he wasn’t okay.

He’d run away and gotten what he needed but he left behind what he wanted. 

He missed Frank every night.

Eventually he and Mikey felt secure enough in what happened, in  _ their grasp _ of what happened, in the fact that they couldn’t be possessed anymore and hurt Ray and Frank. They’d driven to the house they knew the two of them were renting (sometimes it paid to have Jamia and Lynz keeping an eye on them [although they did insist upon payment in Doritos]) and had very much planned on seeing them. On talking to them. On letting them know  _ hey we aren’t actually dead or missing and are very much fine sorry about that whole run around.  _ But then they’d pulled up to the driveway.

Gerard saw Frank’s easy smile in the kitchen as he threw a beer bottle cap at Ray. 

He was happy.

Gerard couldn’t bring himself to walk in and ruin it. 

But  _ god did he want to. _

So they sat. Every day, vaguely like stalkers, outside the run down house while Mikey waited for Gerard to have enough courage to open the car door.

Given the fact it had been a month Mikey couldn’t help the surprise on his face when Gerard finally did it.

So there Gerard was, staring at a couch, because he hadn’t managed to think of an appropriate greeting for your ex-almost-boyfriend-that-you-abandoned. 

But not looking at things, like the sun or the edge of a cliff, very often ended in injury. In blistered red skin or a long hard fall. 

Or a punch in the face.

Gerard felt the sharp pain in his jaw, and the hollow  _ thud  _ sound it made, before he saw anything. 

\----

“You fucking punched me!”

“ _ You  _ ran away!”

“Because I was worried about  _ you!” _

Mikey let his gaze slide over to Ray as Frank and Gerard continued yelling.

“So human, hey?”

“Yeah- well I am.” He smiled warmly at Ray.

Ray didn’t have a dissimilar look on his face to Frank right before he punched Gerard.

So he was mad then. Good to know. Mikey’s smile faded.

“I texted.” The unasked for explanation hung thin in the air.

“ _ Sorry  _ is just one word!” Mikey was pretty sure this was the first time he’d heard Ray yell.

“I thought you knew what it meant.”

Ray sighed and looked at Mikey.  _ Really looked at him.  _

He sighed again.

“You don’t need to lie to me.”

“Yeah I- fuck- yeah, I know. I  _ really  _ am sorry though.”

“I know.”

Their quiet defeat at the things they could’ve had was quickly overtaken by the louder yelling of Gerard and Frank.

“How the fuck did you get in here anyways?” Frank stared at Gerard standing inside the house he was never invited into. “And the sun! Fuck- how-  _ Gerard?”  _ Frank’s voice cracked over his name and that’s when Gerard really had to try. Had to hold himself together and  _ not  _ break down in tears and hold Frank to his chest and never let go. Because he sounded broken. He sounded lost and confused and scared and  _ fucking broken _ .

And it was Gerard’s fault.

Ray briefly considered making a break for it and hiding out in a bar for a few hours because it looked like he was going to have to be the adult in the situation- again. “Maybe we should all sit down.”

“I don’t want to fucking sit down!”

“Talking isn’t going to fix things right now.”

“Do we have to?”

Five minutes later they were all seated in the living room. Gerard had dragged a chair in from the kitchen. He didn’t want to sit on the couch. 

“Well I didn’t kill myself.”

“That was an option?” Ray couldn’t help the octave his voice rose as Gerard offered what he seemed to think was a soothing balm for the situation.

“ _ Maybe?” _

Mikey sighed. He really hated when he had to explain stuff because his brother was being an idiot.

“Look- I’m human and Gerard’s still a vampire. But, like, he’s immune to normal vampire things. That’s enough of an explanation, right?”

“No!” Mikey jumped slightly as Ray and Frank yelled their answer in unison.

“Fine. Gerard your turn.”

Ray went back into the kitchen to retrieve his and Frank’s half finished beers. He didn’t offer Gerard and Mikey any.

“This is like pulling teeth. Holy fuck- just tell us  _ what happened.” _

Gerard bit his lip and looked at Frank who hadn’t said a word since they all sat down.

Gerard, haltingly and sparing a few details, explained what happened after he and Mikey left- the cure, waking up, the testing, finally knowing it was safe enough to see Ray and Frank. “It was always about your guys’ safety. That’s why we did this in the first place, the cure, remember when I almost killed you?” He cut a look to Frank who had been staring at the carpet near Gerard’s feet.

“Sure,” Frank rubbed the side of his neck, two pinkish circular scars visible, “sure, I remember. I also remember when you said we would do this  _ together.” _

“Things change and people get hurt Frank.”

“Yeah,  _ people get hurt!” _

He turned on his heel and the  _ slam  _ of his bedroom door rang out.

Gerard got up to follow. 

“I don’t think he-” Ray started but was cut off by Gerard.

“What’s he going to do? Punch me?”

The door clicked as Gerard treaded gingerly into Frank’s room.

Ray and Mikey stared at each other. Well- Ray stared at Mikey who was looking rather intently at the floor.

“Did you want to leave?”

The quietness, the honesty, of Ray’s voice caught him off guard and he couldn’t help but look up into Ray’s eyes.

“No. I only went because Gerard asked me.”

“That was it? You had no idea and you left us behind because Gerard wanted you to?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“He’s my brother.”

Ray sighed. He had a hard time hanging on to anger.

“I’m happy you went. It seemed like he might’ve done something drastic.”

“Me too.”

“But four months? Four fucking months Mikey? No calls, no emails, nothing?”

“Probably could’ve handled the fall out a little better.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passed.

“Are we- are  _ things _ \- going to go back to how they were?” 

Ray got up and sat down next to Mikey. He looked tired.

“I want that more than anything, honestly, but-”

“But?” Mikey felt like his heart might stop beating (again) in his chest. 

“But whenever I look at you all I can think about was how it felt night after fucking night staring at my phone wishing you would call. Things were so easy with us.”

“And now?”

“I’d have to pick up the pieces and slot them back together to see the picture Mikey; to be honest, I don’t know if I can.”

Mikey shifted closer and Ray was surprised by the warmth he threw off. ““Why?”

“Because it’s been so long there are pieces missing now and some of the shapes have changed- look-  _ Mikey-  _ we fucked around a bit and it might’ve gone somewhere but it didn’t. You decided that when you let me stare at an empty screen for  _ four months.  _ I’d say we could try to be friends again but, honestly, we don’t need to try. We’ve always been friends and always will be. It’s just a little delicate right now.”

Mikey knew he should be happy, be grateful, that Ray even considered him a friend still but the sour taste of the truth stuck in the back of his throat. Things were over with Ray and it was his fault. 

“Thanks for, uh,” muffled yelling could be heard from Frank’s room, “talking to me I guess.”

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes as Ray disappeared to the kitchen. It was like the sweetest memory he couldn’t have. 

Yeah they’d really fucked this one up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you enjoyed the chapter <3 If you want to interact my tumblr is patron-saint :) I'm going to try and keep myself on a weekly posting schedule!


	2. Honey, you should see me in a morgue

His whole body was taut like an overwound guitar string. Or a bomb. He wasn’t sure which yet. There was a hot restlessness that picked and scratched at the under layer of his skin trying to burst out. 

Frank decided right then that he wasn’t made for things like this. For sitting and waiting. Maybe that’s why he was so unhappy. All he did was sit and wait. Wait to finish highschool, wait for his band to go somewhere, sit and watch as his band broke up, wait for his university to kick him out for his dropping grades, wait for his relationships to fail. 24 years of _ “Hi, how are you? Have a seat!” _ . And here he was again- sitting on his bed and waiting. Waiting for a fight for a fall off a cliff. Either was fine in his books as long as he wasn’t sitting anymore. 

Frank heard his bedroom door click open and then shut again. He didn’t need to turn to see who it was.

“Wow, running towards something, that’s new for you.”

He wasn’t trying for a fight, he really wasn’t. He promised himself that was the truth. He yelled it real loud inside his head so he knew it was true.

Gerard didn’t answer and sat down next to him. Frank wondered if it would be childish to push him off the bed. He was weighing the pros and cons as Gerard’s fingers ghosted over the edges of the portrait of Sweet Pea he’d sketched for Frank pinned up next to the photo of the four of them. His birthday had been five months ago now.

“You kept it?” Gerard’s voice was barely above a whisper. Like he knew he was trespassing here. Like if he was quiet enough and held himself just right Frank might not notice someone was intruding. It didn’t feel right to tell Gerard he had arranged his mental landscape around him a long time ago. He hadn’t moved it back. Not yet. It was hard to fill an empty space the shape of a friend. Of a-

“Yeah.” He couldn’t go down that path. Not right now.

“Oh.” Gerard dropped his hand and they sat in silence.

The Dead Kennedys played quietly from the radio Frank had forgotten to turn off.

“Remember the first night you were at your Grandma’s house and you played this? You yelled the lyrics out into the woods and-”

Gerard stopped himself, eyes wide. He hadn’t been quiet. Hadn’t been gentle. He’d ripped into old memories and forced them in front of Frank’s eyes. He’d broken the spell.

The string snapped. 

“Fuck you! You don’t get to walk in here and pretend you’re anything,  _ anybody _ , to me! What did you think, huh? You and Mikey would show up after four months-  _ four fucking months-  _ and everything would go back to normal?”

_ Fine.  _ Maybe he was trying for a fight.

“No. We- look, we were never normal- I thought we could be-”

Neither realized they were both standing until Frank stepped forward, crowding Gerard against the wall. Gerard’s jaw ached. 

“Ray and I thought you died at first! Or worse!”

“What’s worse?” The words felt sour in Gerard’s mouth as soon as he’d said them. His eyes dropped to the intricate pinkish scars that marred Frank’s arms like lace. He knew they extended onto his chest, down his back, up his legs. He wondered how often Frank dreamed about that night four months ago. If he ever woke up in a cold sweat thinking a monster was carving him up again only to realize it was just a sheet twisted around his legs.

“You  _ know  _ what’s worse.” Frank shoved him back against the wall to try and tear Gerard’s eyes off his scarred up arms. To get in his space the way Frank knew he hated; the way he knew he loved. He wondered if Gerard would hit him- if he could make Gerard hit him. The glossy digital photo pinned to the wall fell down. Their own smiling faces looked up at them from the floor. They looked happy. 

“Did you ever think for a single second I was just trying to do the right thing? Be responsible? Trying to keep you and Ray safe?”

“Don’t try that with me. I know you! I know you started looking for an out as soon as things started getting better- as soon as we all started to hope. You  _ wanted  _ to run away. You wanted to leave us. Leave me.” Gerard felt something icy clutch at his lungs. Was this what Frank had been thinking the whole time he was gone? Frank’s breath was hot on his face now. This close up he could see faint black roots growing in on Frank’s orangey brown fauxhawk. It was shorter than Gerard had ever seen his hair.

“Not everything is about you all the time Frank? Do you realize that?” Alright, maybe not the most delicate way to put it. But he was angry too. “I didn’t run away to  _ hurt you.  _ I ran away because I was  _ scared.  _ I was scared for Mikey and me and Ray and you. This wasn’t some grand plan to break your heart. I didn’t even plan on coming out of it alive. But I did. And I didn’t understand it. I still don’t- not all the way. I know it’s fucked up and Mikey and I should’ve come here sooner but you can’t push us away now and justify it with a betrayal ridden love sick storyline.” Yeah, he was angry too. He was back and all Frank wanted to do was shove him as far away as he could get him and then blame him for the distance. Like he hadn’t been fucking sick with the need to see Frank the last four months as well. 

“It’s my life. Why the fuck can’t I?” Frank’s eyes burned with it.

But people were more complicated than that. There were no more straws for Frank to grasp at. No satisfying narrative to justify their actions. He’d fucked up. Gerard had fucked up. So had Ray. So had Mikey. None of them had done this wrong but none of them had managed to get it right either. 

“Because we’re friends!” Gerard’s eyes were wild as he screamed back. All the pushing and pushing and pushing and he finally shoved Frank back. 

The two men stood a meter apart glowering at each other.

“Don’t say that like I don’t know it.”

“Well you’re not acting like it.”

“Either are you!”

Neither were ready to surrender any ground. 

Frank walked over to the wall and pinned the photo back up with a red thumb tack. He stood, still facing the wall, as Gerard spoke. “Do you think this is as good as it gets?”

“As good as what gets?”

“Us. Life. I don’t know. Are we just supposed to be mad at each other forever? Are we supposed to fuck everything up all the time?”

The anger seemed to seep out of Frank then. He leaned back against the wall and slid down onto the carpet. He brought his knees up and played with a hole in his jeans. 

“You know I work at this corporate fucking music store now? Ray teaches guitar lessons there and I sell, like, Britney Spears CDs to twelve year olds.”

Gerard sat down with his back against the wall opposite of Frank. “Are you serious dude?”

Frank reached onto his night stand (an upside down milk crate) and tossed something to Gerard. He turned the plastic badge over in his hands. 

“Dead serious.”

Gerard couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at Frank’s ID badge for some place called Music City. He looked absolutely murderous in his staff photo.

“Jesus, I can’t believe they even let you around kids with a mug like that.” 

“Oh, shut up! At least I have a job. What have you and Mikey been doing exactly? Robbing banks in the dead of night?”

“First of all everyone knows you rob banks during the day. Mikey and I would never; we’re still totally asleep then. Graverobbing on the other hand….”

“Funny.”

“We’re living at our parents’ old house they left to us. Don’t have to pay rent so we get by.” His eyes slid to the side like he was trying to get away from the conversation topic.

“You totally sold your Mom’s creepy old doll collection for booze money didn’t you?”

“How do you know about that?” Gerard’s guilty eyes met his.

“You told me about it one night on the porch _.” _

“I didn’t really think you were listening. Or that you’d remember I guess.”

“I always remember what you say.” Something honest passed between them and it made Gerard feel even worse for not coming by sooner. Not even sending a text.

Sometimes Frank felt like his life was a puzzle with half the pieces missing and no instructions. Other times he felt like his life was a fucking threat. He wasn’t sure which it was today.

Gerard cleared his throat.

“We should probably go back out there and talk as a group.”

Frank tried not to let the hurt show in his eyes. He missed this. Sitting with Gerard, talking, just the two of them. He was still mad though; he tried to glare at Gerard but ended up with a sad half smile on his lips instead.

“Yeah, Mikey and Ray are probably getting worried about us in here.”

“Mikey was pretty sure you were going to kill me, so.”

“Oh, I meant-”

“What?” Gerard caught the pink in Frank’s cheeks and smelled the blood rushing to his face.

“Well, historically speaking when we go off somewhere without them it was to, uh,-”

“Right. Oh.” 

“Yep.”

“Probably, we should-”

“We should go.”

“Yeah.”

Neither made a move for the door. 

Frank could’ve sworn his heart stopped as cold fingers skimmed the back of his knuckles. Gerard looked at the angry red flesh there with guilt. Frank looked up at his standing form from the floor. The fluorescent light made a halo around Gerard’s head. He looked like an angel who’d forgotten how to be holy.

“I age now.”

“What?”

“I’m not immortal like a normal vampire anymore. My hair grows. I have to pluck my eyebrows again.”

“You pluck your eyebrows?”

“Oh shut up. Like you don’t.”

“I missed you, you know. That’s why I’m so mad at you.” The last part spilled out of Frank’s lips, low and quiet, like he didn’t quite mean to say that part aloud. It was honest. Honest like a prayer at night when your knees started to ache and you knew no one was listening anymore; even God had to sleep.

Frank’s brain was in overdrive. He was so close to doing something very, very dumb. He needed something to do with his hands.

“I missed you too.” Gerard’s words fell on an empty room as Frank darted for the door and into the living room.

\----

“Both still alive?”

“Never was but thanks for checking.” Gerard smiled at Ray but refrained from asking for a beer as he joined him and Mikey. Frank picked at the label on his. Gerard wasn’t sure how angry Ray still was with him and didn’t want to push his luck. His eyebrows drew together as he looked at his brother.

How come Mikey got a beer? Totally not fair.

A dry silence filled the room. The type that crackled right before a summer storm. Tempers had fallen but they weren’t out for the count. They chatted gingerly about safe topics. About Music City and comic books and local bands. Laughs were polite, Mikey used a coaster, the radio played at a reasonable volume in the background.

It pissed Frank off. Everyone pretending everything was normal. Was this how it was going to be? Part time jobs and fake smiles? Pretend he didn’t know what Gerard’s lips felt like? Pretend he didn’t know what claws in his guts felt like? _ Oh, he felt that restless gnawing again.  _ Just gloss over everything? Stop lining his doorway with salt at night? He wanted to scream. But what else was there to do? See how long they could all yell at each other? Admit that he couldn’t sleep unless he shoved blankets under his bed so he knew nothing could hide under there? Tell everyone how he had to wear long sleeves in the middle of summer to his mother’s house so she wouldn’t see the scars that laced his arms? 

He felt twitchy with it. With the gingerness and delicacy. 

The sound of the ceiling fan coated the room as small talk ran dry.

None of them would look each other in the eye. 

“We should probably get going.” Gerard stood as he glanced at Mikey. His face was unreadable as he finished off his beer and got up next to his older brother.

“Get going? Where?” Frank couldn’t help the accusation in his voice.

“Back home. It’s getting late and you both work tomorrow morning so I thought-”

“What? That’s it? You’re going to swing by for a chat every once in a while? After we-”

“Frank-” Ray put his hand on Frank’s shoulder. A warning. Frank never did well with those. To him they just seemed to mark whatever line it was he should most certainly cross. They were an invitation as far as he was concerned.

He pushed Ray’s hand off his shoulder.

“No, fuck this! After we all almost  _ died  _ fighting monsters in a forest together this is what we get?”

“Not everything has to be the end of the world Frank.” He turned to glare at Ray who he  _ thought  _ was on his side.

“I’m not saying it needs to be! I’m not looking for a fight.” He consciously made himself unclench his fists. “I just want  _ more  _ than superficial niceties because we can’t look each other in the eye.”

“He’s right.” Frank was surprised it was Mikey who was his ally in this. “It feels wrong somehow.”

“Well sometimes we need to act like adults. We can’t just go off on adventures whenever we’re bored.” 

Frank rolled his eyes at the irony of Gerard of all people telling him to grow up. Like  _ he  _ wasn’t the one with a comic book collection and star wars action figures. Plus Frank had a job. Frank hated his job. Frank used all the money from his job to buy weed. It was all very grown up.

“Why don’t any of you understand what I’m saying? I don’t want to play Buffy the Vampire Slayer again! I just want to hang out with you guys. Like actually hang out. Not talk about the weather and how our parents are doing.”

“Then you need to stop glaring daggers at the side of everyone’s heads. Makes it kind of hard to relax.”

“Fine.” He snapped at Ray.

They stood in silence in a circle by the door.

“Great job Frank. This is way better than the polite conversation from before.”

Frank threw the crumpled up label of his beer bottle at the younger Way brother. 

“I mean-”

“Yeah?” Three voices echoed Ray’s- desperate for a reprieve from the tension. 

“There’s a show tonight at McClaren’s. Double ticket- Earth to Cyborg and Contamination. I also heard there’s $2 pints.”

The last Contamination show Frank went to the mosh pit was so rough they ended up tearing apart the stage halfway through the second song. 

“Hell yes.” 

Call him bias but Frank figured if there was one thing that could help them sort out their anger and distrust it was a moshpit. Plus having Gerard’s sweaty body crammed close to his wouldn’t be half bad. Not that he cared.

“I don’t know.” Gerard ran his tongue over his fangs. 

“Two words Gee: cheap booze.” Gerard rolled his eyes at Mikey and was about to call older brother veto power (which was totally a thing that existed) when he caught Mikey’s eyes. He looked excited. He hadn’t looked like that for months. Fuck. Fine.

“Fine.”

Mikey high fived Frank while Ray looked cautiously optimistic. Gerard sighed.

\----

As they walked into the former nightclub turned stripclub turned abandoned building turned punk venue Gerard couldn’t quit pin down what was bothering him so much. He loved live music. He  _ missed  _ live music. But maybe that was it. When he and Mikey had gotten back to their parents’ house they’d hardly participated in the normal, everyday world. They’d shut themselves in and rarely spoke to anyone but each other. This was the first time since he’d been turned that Gerard was immersing himself back into society. Seeing all the girls in dark lipstick, boys in eyeliner, people with drinks- it was a shock to the system. 

Mikey placed a cold drink in his hand. “Doing okay?”

“It’s just a lot.”

“I know. I forgot what it was like.” His brother’s eyes looked far away; he looked almost wistful. Not for the first time Gerard felt a peace wash over him- he’d done the right thing in turning Mikey back into a human- no matter the fall out.

Fuzzed out powerchords filled the poorly lit venue. A warm hand closed around his. Unreadable brown eyes silently asked permission. Gerard nodded and Frank dragged him into the pit. He wasn't sure if Frank wanted another chance to punch him or just wanted to be close to him. He decided they were close enough to the same thing and he really didn't mind either.

Ray saw Mikey hanging back and leaned against the bar with him as Gerard and Frank disappeared into the pit. 

“Didn’t take Gerard for the moshing type.”

“He used to be. Before-” Mikey waved his hand noncommittally to illustrate the whole  _ vampire  _ thing- “He’s an all or nothing sort of person. He gets freaked out in a crowd at Starbucks but he’s more than happy to get slammed around with forty other people in the pit.”

“What about you. Why are you hanging back?”

“So are you.”

It wasn’t answer to Ray’s question but the look Mikey gave him as he downed the rest of his drink was. 

Warm lips ghosted along Ray’s ear. “I missed you.” He could smell vodka and wondered if Mikey was drinking it straight.

“Guess you should’ve called then.” Ray took his beer off the counter top and disappeared into the crowd. It was too much. Mikey’s hair, his glasses reflecting the stage lights, his hand along his lower back. He wasn’t here to entertain Mikey when he felt like stopping by. He snuck around to the other side of the bar to order another drink and then threw himself into the pit. An elbow hit him in the head and he felt blood dripping off his brow bone.  _ Fucking finally.  _ He felt human for the first time in a while.

Mikey couldn’t help but tense his jaw as Ray threw himself into the pit.  _ Fuck, just when he thought he was getting somewhere with him- _

“Hi, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before?”

A girl with box black hair and a lip ring smiled up at him. 

Well, he supposed he had to do  _ something  _ while Ray was ignoring him. 

Frank felt sweat trickle down his back and a pain explode in his ribs as the bass rattled everyone’s bones. Finally, fucking finally, it was all drowned out. He could only see flashes of Gerard’s face in the pulsating lights and his thoughts were crowded out of his head by crashing cymbals and thrashing guitars. It was like the devil himself had told them to eat cake and by God were they ever. 

Why would he want a fight? He never wanted a fight. This was so much better.

Damp bodies pushed and pulled together disrupted by spikes of pain and the crushing ringing in everyone’s ears. Frank finally felt level as someone’s boot caught him in the chest and knocked the air out of his lungs. This is how he wanted to go- in a hail of flashing lights and broken guitar strings. 

An arm colder than ice steadied him before he could hit the floor. Gerard shoved his mouth as close to Frank’s ear as he could get it. “Be careful Frankie.” He nodded back- not trusting his voice despite screaming along to the music moments earlier. Gerard didn’t move his face back as they continued to dance and jump to the music. At one point his fang caught Frank’s ear and a thin line of blood trickled down his neck. In the morning he would convince himself that he imagined the wet tongue that licked it all up. After that Gerard kept his head hooked over Frank’s shoulder and his arms around his waist. It was nice. Frank felt like he was falling at 300 kilometers an hour. 

He knew it would all break apart soon and that this only existed in the way fake things like paper thrones and smoke rings did. They were drunk and wanted to remember for just one second what it felt like. You couldn’t mourn the loss of something you’d forgotten. 

In the intermission while the two bands changed over equipment Frank wandered out to the alley for a smoke. Unsurprisingly he found Gerard lighting up away from the crowd of smokers already there. 

“Gotta be careful all by yourself. Heard there’s vampires out here.” The vodka was making him stupid he decided, as he playfully bit the collar of Gerard’s black denim jacket.

A slow warm smile spread across the vampire’s face. “That so?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry too much though. They seem nice enough if you offer them vodka sodas.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No, ‘course not.” He leaned against the alley wall with Gerard and he knew they were too close. Now  _ this  _ was dangerous.

“You okay Frankie?”

“Have I ever been?” Frank tried to play it off as a joke but saw Gerard wasn’t buying it.

“I mean it- you okay? You seem-”

“Seem what?” He side stepped closer to Gerard so their arms were pressed together.

“Sadder than usual. Or sad in different way I guess. Usually it’s this thing you kind of drag around with you, like you’ve resigned yourself to it but now- I don’t know. It’s all I see when I look at you and the happiness, the smiles, they’re all fake.”

“That’s pretty deep talk coming from a man five drinks in.”

“I’m serious.” Despite Gerard’s blown pupils and slurred speech Frank knew it was true. He sighed. 

Gerard reached an arm around his waist and Frank leaned in. He knew this wasn’t Gerard coming on to him. He was genuinely sad for him- maybe even worried. It hurt to watch someone else’s heart break. 

“I just feel like my life’s not going anywhere- this was supposed to be it. I was supposed to get back to town and stop being depressed and start liking life and I still don’t and I’m starting to think nothing is ever going to fix me.”

“It’s a battle everyday and nothing, no matter how much you've built it up in your head, will ever fix you. Have you considered you’re not broken to begin with?”

“I don’t run the same as everyone else Gerard. I don’t break the same. There’s no warranty on me.”

“I know you feel bad Frank, about everything you’ve ever fucking done, and think being miserable is some sort of cosmic or godly punishment or something. But it’s not. People get sad. People make mistakes. People break. It happens all the time.”

“Then why the fuck does it matter at all.”

“If you really don’t care about yourself I can’t make you but take this advice from someone who’s tried to kill themselves a time or two: you’re worth it. You’re worth scraped up knees and five cent coins. It’s the little things that get you through life. There doesn’t have to be some big overarching plot that amends all your sins. You can like your morning coffee and hate your morning commute. You can like the way your car rumbles when it hits a speed bump and hate the draft that always runs through your apartment.”

“Between all that poetry can I assume you’re saying being a dirtbag is okay?”

“Yeah- it’s fucking spectacular.” Frank felt the echoes of their previous conversation, but roles reversed, in the trailer rip through him. Sometimes he wondered if they were dragging each other up or down. He figured he’d settle for either as long as Gerard was there. Not that he’d tell him that- he was still angry with him after all. Probably.

Frank’s eyes were earnest when they shot to Gerard. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say there might be a way out of this for all the fuck ups yet.” To his surprise his smile reached his eyes.

Gerard clinked his glass against Frank’s. “To being fuck ups.”

Frank laughed and felt it,  _ really fucking felt it in his gut,  _ for the first time in a long time. “To being fuck ups.”

\----

The morning sun streamed in, illuminating dust particles and catching the silver tabs of crumpled up beer cans. The clock on the wall ticked steadily as always. Frank spared it a fleeting glance as he exited the bathroom after retching up what he imagined was the entire contents of his stomach.  _ Fuck. _

“Ray!” He flung open his bedroom door and Ray groaned. “Ray we’re late for work!”

“Shit.” Ray got up, promptly fell over, got  _ back  _ up again and pulled on his work shirt. He was pretty sure it was his work shirt anyways. 

Five minutes of alternating between trying to open a package of instant coffee and going back to the bathroom to vomit later Frank realized there was still a chance, however slim (see: very likely), that he and Ray were still drunk.

That’s what brought them to the two Way brothers passed out on their living room floor. There was no way in Hell Gerard wasn’t still at the very least tipsy but Mikey….

Mikey had disappeared early in the night with some chick (one of the many reasons for Ray’s current hangover from Hell) and had only come back ten minutes before the rest of them had stumbled out of the venue.

Turns out he was sober. Sober and pissed off at being woken up so early. Ray convinced him it was his and Frank’s fault that he and Gerard had even gotten dragged out to the club in the first place so he totally owed him this favour. Mikey shot daggers at anyone who dared to make eye contact with him as he pulled the car out of the driveway and towards Music City. They all owed him at least a couple of joints for this.

Gerard figured it wasn’t all bad. Their hangovers negated any need to have serious conversations that would probably involve yelling about what an asshole he had been the last four months.

Pulling into the parking lot of the strip mall that housed Music City Mikey saw a decidedly angry looking dude with his arms crossed standing in the parking lot. Ray and Frank sank down in their seats. 

“Shit.”

“Brian.”

Brian  Schechter was in his late twenties, had never stepped foot outside of Jersey, and looked like it too.

“Please tell me how the fuck  _ both  _ of my opening employees managed to be late?” Brian had managed this branch of Music City for the last three years and everyday he hated it more and more. Funny how it had risen exponentially since hiring Frank Iero and Ray Toro.

The car doors slammed behind them. Frank had a sheen of hangover sweat on his forehead and was trying his best to get the world to stop spinning.

“Traffic.”

“My Grandma died.”

Brian threw his arms in the air and stalked back into the store. Ray and Frank followed sheepishly. 

It wasn’t until Frank heard a rather recognizable voice lecturing a customer on the intricacies of Riot Girl punk music that he realized Gerard was still here. He spotted Mikey a few moments later rearranging a CD display that seemed to be bothering him. He was shoving all the new releases to the back and putting mostly Smashing Pumpkins at the front. One Pulp CD as well. 

“Who the hell are your weird friends?”

More than anything Frank wanted to tell Brian not to talk so loudly right now but figured he was on pretty thin ice as it was.

“They like music. Hungover as shit though- not sure why they’re hanging around.”

Ray leaned over. “Mikey found a left over beer in the car and thought it’d help with the hangover. Neither of them can drive now.”

Brian looked like her regretted the words out of his mouth before he could even say them. “We _do_ need some more help around here.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Act professional Iero. No swearing.” Frank rolled his eyes at Brian. No way would Gerard or Mikey take this job. It was fucking laughable. There was no force on this Earth or the next that could convince Mikey and Gerard Way to start working at some corporate, soul sucking, shit paying, boring, uncreative, repetitive, fucking-

Three days later the four of them stood in the parking lot of Music City in matching green polos. Frank gave Gerard a disapproving stare.

“What can I say? Sheep’s blood is expensive.” They snubbed out their cigarettes and filed inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want anyone to think I'm glossing over how shitty Gerard and Mikey were! Frank and Ray are definitely still mad but they have to find a way to interact with them. I'm trying to write this like actual arguments I've had with friends. You're mad but you still love them so you just make awkward conversation while all this anger boils underneath because you can't keep rehashing the same argument a million times but being calm and polite feels too formal and everything just feels off kilter. 
> 
> Yes they all work at Music City together and yes they will be the WORST employees ever. This is still a horror/mystery fic but I wanted to write some emotional groundwork for the first few chapters. Also yes... Brian is here now. Why? Because I love him and also shut up.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked this chapter! I really appreciate the feedback and you're all so kind!


	3. Punk in drublic and other reasons you should never trust nu metal guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have gone off the rails with descriptive interludes in this one.. Sorry? I just have an uncontrollable urge to work in a record store with my friends so this is the manifestation of my dream that will never be. A sincere My Bad.

What really fucking got Frank was the fact that Gerard didn’t even look bad in his ID photo. In fact, he looked good. Really good. His dumb fangs peaked over his too pink lips and his greasy black hair was tucked behind one ear. The fucker even had the audacity to smile in the photo!  _ Smile!  _ Brian liked him too which was annoying as all hell.

He would’ve accepted Ray being his favourite- at least he actually got work done during the day. But  _ Gerard?  _ Gerard with his mysterious themoses in the staff fridge and 18 cigarette breaks a day? That Gerard? 

He had somehow fucking  _ endeared  _ himself to Brian and now Frank had to do all the shitty jobs like taking inventory while Gerard got to sit behind the checkout desk.  _ Annoying vampires and their fucking charisma! _

It had been two weeks since Mikey and Gerard had stumbled through what had to be the worst interviews ever given by successful job applicants. In their defense Brian had conducted their interviews in the back alley behind the store while the three of them chain smoked. Such highlights included:

“Why do you want to work here?”

“I don’t.”

“Cigarette money.”

Brian raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, and booze money.”

The older man sighed.

“Where have you been working the past few years?”

“Unemployed.”

“None of your business.” 

Brian fixed Mikey with a stare. He stared right back.

“Have you ever been fired?”

“Never really had a job before,” Gerard lit another cigarette, “I had an internship but I quit,” he didn’t add the part about trying to kill himself in a forest subsequently after, “Mikey and I used to work at, like, a grocery store returning carts but we got fired for smoking weed in the parking lot and-”

“Nope- never been fired.” Mikey lied overtop of Gerard’s more honest answer.

“Favourite band?”

“I thought we had to play the music corporate gave us all the time; does it matter?” Gerard’s brows drew together.

“Matters to me.” They decided then that Brian wasn’t a terrible guy.

“Smashing Pumpkins.”

“Bowie.”

“Do you like the New York Rangers?”

“I genuinely couldn’t name a sport if you paid me.” (Indifference was a passable answer. Worst case scenario was  _ yes  _ and best case scenario was a fourteen minute rant on why they absolutely fucking sucked. Frank was pretty sure  _ he  _ only got the job because they agreed on which hockey teams blew.)

Their first day Brian assigned them a 9am shift with Ray and Frank who would be training them. Gerard and Mikey decided to recant their previous assessment- Brian was  _ the worst.  _ 9am was NOT a humane time to be awake at.

Frank and Ray had always assumed they were bad employees. They knew it in the way you knew the sky was blue- it was a plain and simple fact. Until, that is, they worked with the Way brothers. Despite arriving in the same car as Ray and Frank they’d managed to be thirty minutes late. As Ray was unlocking the door Gerard insisted he had to go around back for a cigarette and Mikey followed. Frank gave up on being patient and eventually opened up the backdoor and threatened to throw Holy Water on them if they didn’t get inside soon. They insisted it would have no effect on them now but both quickly scuttled inside. 

Gerard shoved a thermos in the staff fridge and when he turned back around in the small wooden floored backroom he came face to face with Frank.

“Please tell me that’s a ketchup stain.”

Gerard looked down at the dark red smudge on his green Music City shirt.

“Whoops.” 

Ray tried to show them how to count the cash into the register in the morning; he initially thought it was going very well. He soon realized Mikey was actually staring, with a slightly unsettling intensity, at his hands. He shot Mikey an annoyed glance. 

“You must have a lot of calluses from playing guitar.” He was still looking at Ray’s hands completely unfazed as he spoke.

Ray turned to Gerard hoping he would be paying slightly more attention. It was then he realized Gerard was still wearing his sunglasses, had slumped over on the stool and had his head down on the counter. He was asleep. 

Ray sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Once Ray thought Frank might actually murder Gerard (he suggested they just get rid of all The Misfits CDs because they weren’t  _ that  _ good anyways) he and Frank went to the 7/11 next door to get coffees. 

He even let Frank rant to him about the cultural effect The Misfits had on, not only punk music, but society as a whole. Ray sighed again. He was a good friend. He was definitely getting drunk tonight as a reward. 

When they returned the Ways were nowhere to be found. The CD from corporate had stopped playing from the overhead speakers. Eventually they spotted the two of them in the break room reading comics. 

“What the hell guys?” Ray slammed his coffee down on the table.

“Oh, thanks.” Gerard reached out and took Ray’s coffee. 

Yeah, Ray was definitely getting drunk tonight.

“Did you consider, oh, I don’t know, watching the store?! Literally at all?” Frank’s voice bounced off the thin walls.

“Someone’s gunning for employee of the month.” Mikey stretched his legs which were propped up on the table as Gerard laughed. 

Ray figured, as their first shift eventually drew to a close, that Gerard had annoyed Frank enough that it might actually help him get over whatever weird crush/breakup/ex thing they had going on.

It was with great relief that Ray stripped off his work polo and pulled on a well worn Metallica shirt. Whatever nature documentary Frank was watching played quietly from the living room as Ray stuck his head in the fridge and found a beer. He cracked it open and sank into one of the lumpy armchairs in the living room. Soft summer sunlight filtered into the room.

Finally. Some peace and quiet-

“Hey Ray.”

_ Fuck. _

Ray sighed. 

“Yeah Frank?”

Frank chewed on his lip ring as he spoke. He really didn’t know how to get the words out. How to form the millions of thoughts racing through his head into anything intelligible. Bubbling underneath the surface he had this baseline of resentment and actual fucking rage directed at Gerard for betraying him and Ray, for lying to them, for letting them think he and Mikey had abandoned them. Frank figured Gerard would’ve been walking on eggshells around him all day- careful of what he said and did. Instead he’d acted like everything was normal. He joked and slacked off and even tried to make Frank laugh by using albums with numbers on their covers to spell out 420 (granted that one had worked; Frank had the same sense of humour as an eighth grader). He seemed to think any ill will was glossed over the night they’d gone to the Contamination show. Deep down Frank knew Gerard didn’t really think that they were fine, that Frank was anything other than furious and heart broken, but he didn’t act like it and it pissed Frank off.

Frank wanted to wallow and fucking throw himself over the couch in discontent and let everyone around him know the world was essentially crashing down. But he couldn’t. Because he was an  _ adult. _

And it kinda pissed Frank off, that he wasn’t allowed to have his teenage melodrama anymore. He had to be an adult with adult crises, adult breakdowns, adult amendments. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to break shit and scream and he didn’t know why only half adults with too young faces and lingering baby fat were allowed to do that. He was too old to be a fuckup and too young to be a lost cause. Your mid-twenties were truly the purgatory of the depressed. That and like, Subway.

Ray, as usual, was a good friend and listened to Frank complain about the deep disconnect he felt between himself and Gerard. He told Frank Gerard probably just didn’t know how to handle the situation either and was as lost as Frank was. Did Frank know there was probably some truth to this? Sure. Did he feel like listening to it? No.

They both reclined on their respective chairs as a documentary on Pumas started up. 

Ray considered asking Frank about Mikey. The commercial break ended and he decided not to.

Thankfully (see: after realizing what shit employees they all were) Brian moved them to the evening shift. Monday to Friday 12pm to 9pm. They closed at 8pm and had an hour to balance the till, mop, dust, rearrange CDs and smoke in the back after doing an awful job cleaning. The morning crew complained about them often. After six the place was practically deserted. On the surface this would’ve been the best case scenario. The four of them could’ve done precisely nothing for the remainder of their shift. Unfortunately, Brian also worked the evening shift. He arrived around one and bitched at them to rearrange displays or help customers or “do their jobs”. After that he would tuck himself away in his office and they typically wouldn’t see him until close. 

The streets outside bore no markings of the town’s inhabitants and the neighbouring bowling alley, 7/11, dive bar and bookstore saw no business. However, there was a peculiar rotation of people who came into Music City on a clockwork like schedule. 

Around 630 a girl with bright red hair would slip into Brian’s office. She didn’t knock or give any indication she was anywhere other than exactly where she was supposed to be. Twenty minutes later she would leave with her backpack looking considerably heavier. At 715 two men, one in a hoodie with heavy dark circles and messed up hair, the other with a cardigan and trucker hat, would enter Brian’s office. Again, they didn’t knock. They left with bulging backpacks. At 755 (five minutes until close! They were all very put off when customers came in this late) a man with long black hair (somehow greasier than Gerard’s- which was quite a feat) and cut off cargo shorts would enter Brian’s office. He didn’t knock. He left with a grocery bag tied shut at the top. It seemed he usually forgot his backpack. 

The one thing that bound all these strangers together was how little attention they paid to the employees of Music City. They never so much as glanced at the CD displays around them or workers throwing crumpled up receipts at each other. They simply passed through as though it was the foyer of Brian’s office. That is, until, Gerard and Mikey started working there. They would all openly stare at Gerard with an intensity that made his skin crawl. 

Once the man with black hair was glaring so openly at Gerard that Ray snapped, “need something?” While stepping in front of Gerard.

He muttered something along the lines of, “yeah, your mum’s number,” and waltzed into Brian’s office, slamming the door behind him.

With the exception of the weirdo brigade into Brian’s office their nights were fairly boring. In fact, they were mind numbing. Frank even found it in himself to push down his bubbling anger at Gerard and Mikey for the benefit of not blowing his brains out from the sheer boredom of it all. 

If Brian seemed preoccupied enough, or on the rare days he didn’t come into work, they would ‘borrow’ the instruments from the teaching rooms on the left side of the store and jam out together. They’d only managed it twice and it left Frank itching for more. He missed his band days and there was something special about the four of them playing together. What had surprised him most was Gerard. His voice had a unique quality to it that dragged you in and before you realized it you were trapped- rendered a willing victim. Frank would’ve done anything he said if he sang it in that scratched out voice of his.

Reprieves like this were few and far inbetween. Mainly, he labelled CDs while monotonous pop played in the background. For a branch of a corporate chain the building itself was fairly homey. The floors were a deep coloured wood that gave way to a dark green carpet in the wood panelled lesson rooms. The cream coloured walls were plastered with posters for upcoming shows and at the back a staircase led up to the ‘alternative music section’ which was a loft in the back. Brian’s office was tucked underneath the loft with large windows facing out to the store; he always kept the blinds closed. Frank was pretty sure they weren’t allowed to have half the music they did in the ‘alternative’ section because a man from corporate came for an inspection once and Brian never took him up there claiming it was storage. The register ran along the right side of the store with plush stools and chewing gum tucked underneath the counter. It was summer so Brian kept the back door propped open with an empty paint can they all used for their cigarette butts. The staff room in the back had a small fridge, rickety card table, a few folding chairs, once white and now yellowed cupboards and countertop with an embedded sink, a row of staff lockers with names written on top of masking tape and two cracked leather sofas. He almost felt like he was sneaking out of his childhood house when he went around back to smoke.

As homey as the place felt for a chain store in the shitty part of Jersey there were a few things that threw Frank off.

For example, the clock above Brian’s office ticked backwards. Ray had taken it down countless times to rewind it. It would start off ticking, as any clock did, clockwise. The second they stopped paying attention, staring directly at it, it would reverse. 

Once, Gerard had knocked into a stand of stick on guitar letters. As he bent to pick them up he noticed they spelled out a word. RUN. He scoffed; he hated running. The most he would ever do would be a light jog and even then, that was unlikely. 

Last Tuesday Brian had told the morning shift not to come in; the city was doing some maintenance work and had to shut off the power for a few hours. Instead, they would open at 12pm with the evening shift. This all seemed very practical and fine until Frank snuck out back for a cigarette break just before their shift started. There he saw Brian with a bucket of sudsy water, rubber gloves and a sponge. The water was pink. The alley wall was splattered in gobs of red. It had dried to a dark brown around the edges but the thicker splashes were still a deep wine colour in the middle.

“Uh.”

Brian startled and turned around. Frank had never seen him anything other than collected and maybe a bit pissed off before.

“I didn’t think you’d be here yet.”

“Well it’s 12 so….”  _ Not that you can tell with the clock,  _ Frank added silently.

“Right.” Brian stood with the damp sponge in his hand, water dripping down his arm. The white edges of the Music City logo were stained pink and red. “Some kids vandalized the back wall. You know how teenagers are.” 

Frank stood stalk still, his cigarette dangling, forgotten, between his fingers. “What? At 10am some kids threw a bunch of blood on the wall?”

“It’s red paint Frank. I think you’ve been watching too many horror movies.”

Frank knew what blood looked like. He’d seen a lot of it. 

They stood staring at each other and Frank felt like his heart was in his throat. 

“Sure.” He tried to keep his voice level. "How was the construction?"

"Fine, Frank."

"Thought they were going to shut off the power for a few hours. Wasn't that why we opened late?"

"They did."

"The microwave clock is right. It didn't reset."

Brian placed his hand on Frank's shoulder and he had to fight the urge to shake it off. 

"You a detective now? I reset it already, that's all." He squeezed Frank's shoulder and his thumb brushed over the scar laden scorpion on his neck. "That hurt?"

"I've gotten lots of tattoos. Used to it now I guess."

"I meant this." His thumb dug into the two delicate circular scars on his neck just above the scorpion.

Frank jerked away from him, eyes wide like he'd been burned. 

Brian's steady gaze stayed heavy on him.

Brain slowly turned and started scrubbing at the wall again. “And Frank?” 

Frank stopped in his tracks as he retreated back inside the store. “Yeah?” His breath bunched up in his lungs.

“There’s no reason for you to tell the others about this. Don’t want anyone thinking we have an  _ unsafe  _ work environment, right?”

“Got it.” He let the door slam shut behind him.

Perhaps the oddest was the kitchen in the staff room. It was always pristine. Neither Frank, Ray, Gerard or Mikey had ever cleaned it; they were after all, notoriously lazy employees. Brian wouldn’t clean up any of their other messes instead letting the morning shift fix their fuckups. Yet the pizza grease splattered, used napkin littered kitchen was always scrubbed fresh the next day, seemingly by magic overnight. It also smelled oddly of bleach. 

One or two of these things certainly would’ve bothered most people. All of them together would make most sane people quit. However, Frank, Ray, Gerard and Mikey had a rather high tolerance for creepy shit. All in all, they barely noticed it.

Brian didn’t ask them about their glassed over eyes at three in the afternoon and they didn’t ask him about the commercial sized bucket of salt in the kitchen.

One day, after a failed attempt on Gerard’s part to drink his breakfast while driving to work (he and Mikey were shockingly running late), he’d rushed into Brian in his hurry to get inside and change shirts. Brian looked down at the deep red that covered Gerard’s front.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“Uh, casual Friday?”

“It’s Tuesday.” The door to Brian’s office slammed. 

He left them alone. They left him alone.

It's not that the store was a fun place to work but something about the four of them being together again made it manageable. They had shucked off as much of the corporate glean on the place as they could. Contrary to the employee handbook Frank had refused to remove his facial piercings; although, Brian had an eyebrow ring so they were pretty sure he wasn’t a great manager. Frank wore Misfits tshirts beneath his button up green short sleeve with the Music City logo emblazoned over a pocket underneath a cardigan, Ray wore an open plaid shirt over his with hole ridden jeans, Gerard kept his black hoodie zipped up and sunglasses on (he claimed the sun still hurt his eyes but Frank just thought he was being a dick wearing those inside) and frantically tugged the zipper down to expose enough of the forest green shirt when he saw Brian coming to keep himself from getting reprimanded. Mikey, on the other hand, had convinced Brian they needed someone in plain clothes to blend in to see if anyone was trying to shoplift. Gerard, Ray and Frank were ready to fight him on that one because it just wasn’t fair they had to wear the dumb shirts if Mikey didn’t; in the two weeks since Mikey had started this project their store’s shrinkage due to shoplifting had fallen 40%. Now that fucker got to lounge against a rack of CDs in his dumb Radiohead tshirt looking smug. 

“Move! I need the tally sheet.” Frank lightly shoved Gerard away from the register so he could reach underneath it for the store log book. In the log book they were supposed to record voicemails, customer inquiries, phone numbers of people waiting for a certain record to get in, delivery dates and other professional activities. In the four months Ray and Frank had worked there two voicemails, a delivery note that said  _ CDs?  _ with no date next to it and a customer complaint about the lack of service had been written down. Frank had later gone back and scribbled out the customer complaint so Brian wouldn’t get mad at them. 

Instead the log book was used for the very business like activity of making fun of their customers. After a drunken bitch session about the usuals who came in Frank, Ray, Gerard and Mikey had made a chart and, to make the day go by faster, would put a tick in the appropriate column whenever that type of customer showed up. Was it a little mean? Sure. But Frank was at the end of his rope after the third girl that day asked him for a James Blunt CD. Since he was pretty sure Brian  _ had  _ seen that customer complaint before he disposed of it he really couldn’t get another one against him and he was about to throttle the next hipster asking for  _ a band you probably haven’t heard of before- Joy Division?  _ So this was his outlet.

“You don’t need to push me, I'm moving!” Frank wished he could be annoyed by Gerard’s nasally voice. 

”Yeah well move faster.” He snaked his arm under the register and grabbed the log book. Two joints and a scrap of paper with a hastily scribbled phone number fell onto the ground. 

Gerard blushed as he shoved the two joints into the pockets of his black jeans. He left the phone number on the floor.

“Some girl, uh, left that for Mikey so.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure.” 

They stood around it like it was burning a hole through the ground.

A beat of silence passed as they stood facing each other on the linoleum floor behind the register. Frank continued.

“I mean if it was for you that’s cool too. It’s not like we’re, uh-”

“It’s not.” Gerard wanted nothing more in the world than for Frank to shut up. He could smell the blood raising in his cheeks and it was making him fucking salivate.

“And the joints?”

“Depends who’s asking.” A smile tugged at the corner of Gerard’s lips.

“Oh, I’ve heard it all before. Officer that’s not  _ mine!”  _ Frank’s fake cop voice was weirdly high pitched and feminine.

“Even if they are mine I wouldn’t share with the likes of you.” A real smile was plastered on Gerard’s face now.

“Try and stop me.” A devious grin flashed over Frank’s features as he jammed his hand into Gerard’s front pocket, fishing around for the rolled up papers.

It was with the two of them giggling and Frank’s hands essentially down Gerard’s pants that Ray and Mikey returned from their coffee run at the 7/11 next door. 

“I think I’m going to vomit. Ray hold my hair back.” 

“ _ This  _ is why we get bad reviews.” 

“What- no! This is normal- nothing weird- there were joints!” Frank yelled at Ray and Mikey’s backs as they retreated to break room in the back. A customer turned and gave them both dirty looks.

Frank figured he should probably shut up about weed. And probably take his hands out of Gerard’s pockets. He flopped down on the stool and crossed his arms- definitely not sulking.

“Don’t be so glum. I’ll share.”

“This was all part of the plan.”

“Oh sure it was Mastermind.”

Frank picked the log book back up and observed the columns. “What’ve we got today?” Ray sipped his coffee as he and Mikey approached the register again after dumping their backpacks in the staff lockers.

“Two dudes who would totally suck Morrissey off if they had the chance-”

“There was just one guy not two.” Gerard interrupted.

“Well  _ you’re  _ here.” Frank looked up at Gerard smirking. The vampire elbowed him in the gut and took the pen from between his fingers. Frank definitely did not watch the way Gerard dragged the tip of the pen over his tongue before he started writing.

“Well if we’re counting ourselves then,” he pointedly looked at Ray and put a mark under  _ guitar guy who won’t shut up about Van Halen,  _ smirked at Frank as his pen scratched a line under  _ thinks their hardcore but their Mom still cuts the crusts off their sandwiches  _ (Frank grimaced- it was one time okay?), lastly he put a tick under  _ skinny hipster with weird glasses _ (that one required no explanation; Mikey thought it was offensively specific) “perfect.”

The annoyed voices of two customers arguing rose from the back of the store. 

“Love Buzz, Downer, Blew, Been a Son and Milk It.”

“I’m just saying if you’re wearing their t-shirt you should be able to name five of their songs.”

“I just did you dick. It’s not my fault your head is so far up your ass you don’t recognize anything pre  _ Nevermind _ .”

Mikey took the pen and ticked  _ misogynistic idiot  _ and  _ girl who, contrary to popular opinion, actually knows what she’s talking about. _

The bell at the front of the store chimed.

“Hard at work dummies?” Lynz strode through the front door with Jamia in tow and leaned up against the counter. She elbowed her girlfriend in the ribs. 

“Or hard at work?” Jamia had a grin on her face so big it almost obscured her glassed over eyes.

“That’s not how the saying goes.” Lynz glared at Mikey as he spoke.

“I think your girlfriend is baked.”

Jamia giggled and scuffed the toe of her converse against the floor.

“No shit.” 

Not a single one of the four of them were brave (see: stupid) enough to tick a column for either Lynz or Jamia. Not that they didn’t look like they could each perfectly slot into a record store archetype with Lynz in red lipstick, a band t-shirt with more rips and holes than material and pinstriped black Dickies and Jamia in a plaid shirt several sizes too big for her, a nose ring, and baggy Levi’s. Frank had once put marks down for  _ Rock Chick  _ and  _ Probably a girl Frank has dated  _ (which, by the way, was a real column and mainly used to mock him). The next day there were gobs of chewed up gum stuck along the door handle that Brian made Frank pry off. He couldn’t prove it but Jamia and Lynz had a fair number of gum related puns at the ready when they’d visited them at work the next day.

The two of them had a habit of hanging around as Lynz had somehow convinced the township to commission her to paint a mural on the alley wall Music City backed onto. Jamia always came with her for ‘moral support’. AKA she was unemployed and didn’t want to hang around at their studio apartment by herself. Brian must have thought it was strange she only came to work on the mural in the dead of night, with Jamia setting up flood lights so she could see what she was painting, or on overcast days. Gerard couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that ran through him as he watched her paint,  _ make art,  _ outside while he was stuck pricing Pat Benatar cassettes. He should probably take more risks with his life. He sighed- had he settled too easily on this? Whenever Frank saw him gazing at the pots of paint outside through the sliver of the propped open metal door he would shove a few ripped off inches of receipt tape under Gerard’s nose. “Draw me something.” The first was a vampire biting into a Eurthymics CD; a little speech bubble floated above his head saying ‘this sucks!’. Frank now had at least fifteen little cartoon drawings pinned up on his bedroom wall.

Jamia tilted her bag of chips to Frank who gratefully took one. He may have forgotten to make lunch. By that he, of course, meant he wanted to sleep in an extra ten minutes and had been too lazy to make one.

They all chatted aimlessly for a while, occasionally interrupted by a customer trying to do something annoying like pay or ask where a CD was. They were on track for their longest streak of not working yet at three hours and twenty minutes. “Damn.” Gerard muttered as Ray was pulled away to teach a guitar lesson in the back. 

Frank patted him in the arm. “It’s alright- we’ll try again tomorrow to beat it.”

“I don’t even want to know what the record was.” Jamia rolled her eyes.

“Oh, like you’re so gainfully employed.” Frank stole another chip from the bag as he spoke.

“Five hours and eighteen minutes.” Mikey actually looked proud as he spoke.

“That’s more than half your shift!”

“Not our fault you guys keep coming here to talk to us! Sorry for being so entertaining and interesting.” Frank leaned back on the stool.

Lynz groaned but her face quickly turned serious as she eyed the retreating clouds in the sky. “We should probably get out of here anyways.” Sometimes Gerard felt guilty that Lynz was still bound by the ancient rules he was now free of. She could only come into Music City because Brian had invited her in to talk about the mural on the back alley wall.

Twenty minutes after they left the sun broke through the clouds. 

Frank tried not to think about the last time he and Gerard had shared a cigarette as a cold hand passed him the joint. Mainly because he got a far away look on his face and he was pretty sure Mikey could tell. He always elbowed him in the ribs when taking the joint from him when he got like that in a very clear  _ stop thinking sexual thoughts about my brother  _ sort of way. 

Four very hard working and totally responsible Music City employees stood in a circle behind the dumpsters out back passing a joint on their collective break. It was the third one today- break that was, not joint.

“I’m just saying Brian seems like a shifty dude.” Mikey passed the joint on to Gerard as he spoke.

“I swear to God I saw Shania Twain on his mp3 player the other day. But I guess that’s more of a personal failing than a nefarious quality.”

Mikey rolled his eyes at his brother. “First of all- that’s totally a nefarious quality- no one normal likes Shania Twain. Second, people are always going in and out of his office at weird hours. They never buy anything and he always keeps the blinds drawn.”

“What’re you saying?” Ray took the joint from Gerard with furrowed brows.

“He’s a drug dealer.” Mikey stated it like it was an undisputed fact. This tactic usually worked for him- just saying things like they were true. He had trustworthy eyes. 

“And not sharing with us? That’s just mean.” Frank took the joint from Ray.

“If we caught him in the act we’d have blackmail material, you know? We could take all the breaks we wanted and he’d never fire us.” 

As Mikey spoke Frank imagined a permanent future at Music city and thought he would much rather Brian fire him.

“That’s speculation Mikey! What do you want to do? Break into his office in the dead of night on a hunch?” 

Mikey fixed Ray with a level stare. “Yep.”

_ Ding! _

“And what if we  _ do  _ find something?” Gerard tried to hide his excitement with indifference. What could he say? He loved a good mystery.  _ Music City and the Money Launderer. Music City and the Illegal Drug Trafficker. Music City and the- _

_ Ding! _

“Well, I mean if he  _ is  _ a drug dealer and we were to find some of his  _ products  _ I’m just saying taking a few wouldn’t be-” Frank trailed off. 

_ Ding! _

“No, no, no, stop right there. Can we, for once in our lives, try not to actively get ourselves killed?” Ray’s voice raised an octave as he spoke.

_ Ding! _

“Fuck that’s the bell on front desk!” Ray almost dropped the joint in surprise. 

They suddenly realized with all four of them out back there was no one left  _ inside  _ the store.

Four definitely, probably, not stoned employees filed back inside frantically.

A guy with gelled back hair and a vintage band shirt he probably spent $150 dollars on stood tapping his foot with a Smiths record under his arm.

“Great taste dude.” Frank wanted to put his head through a plate glass window.

At least a mystery would be  _ exciting.  _ Anything was better than another pretentious fucking-

“Do you have change for a hundred?” 

Another tick under _ dude who would totally suck Morrissey off if he had the chance.  _ He made another column with the title  _ people who make me want to drive off a cliff  _ and put a mark there as well.

\---

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” 

“Then stay in the car!” Frank whisper hissed to Ray as they traversed the parking lot.

After returning to their respective homes at the end of their day they’d looked upon the matter reasonably. Breaking into their boss’ office with little to no evidence he’d done something wrong just so they could have a laugh was completely insane- immature really. Twenty minutes after coming to that conclusion Gerard and Mikey had pulled up outside Frank and Ray’s house. “You guys own black hoodies right?”

They figured it would go down like this: they would use their incredible hacking talents (having the security code) to get into the building, next they would rely on their inside source for the layout (it was all of them, they were all the inside source), after that they would pick the lock to Brian’s office and search his desk (with the key he’d left Ray for emergencies) and solve the mystery (that they’d made up). Regular James Bonds, the lot of them.

Frank felt Gerard’s hand close around his as they ran across the parking lot. He grabbed on- he was still mad though. This was fun- exciting. Gerard squeezed his hand. He giggled. 

He wouldn’t admit it under threat of death but he missed this. The scheming and planning and adrenaline racing through his worn out veins. The fact that he could finally get fired from a job he hated if they got caught was just the cherry on top.

Everything went according to plan (with the exception of Mikey having to run back to the car to get his inhaler he forgot- sometimes being human again sucked). 

Ray pressed the button on his flashlight and a staticy fluorescent filled Brian’s office.

It occurred then to Gerard he had never been in here- not even when he was signing his employment paperwork-  _ odd. _

“Seriously,” Ray prodded at the Megadeth poster on his wall, “Metallica are  _ way better. _ ”

“Megadeth aren’t bad!” Frank protested.

There was also a massive crucifix above his desk. Creepy.

“You’re only saying that because you think Brian’s hot.” Oh god, that was the last time he drunkenly told Ray anything. 

Gerard made a face and turned away.

“Oh sure,” Frank tried to play it off, “if dudes who look like gas station attendants with a drinking problem are your type.” 

“Yeah?” Ray questioned. “I thought it was more the art school drop out look you were into.” 

Gerard threw a pen from Brian’s desk at Ray. 

Mikey shined his flashlight into a desk drawer “Guys, I think we have a problem.” 

Four heads leaned over the desk.

The overhead lights flickered on as Brian walked in. “Yeah, I think we do.” 

Tucked neatly inside the top right hand drawer was a wooden stake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too boring! The plot will start to move along now; I just wanted a fun work!au fic for second :)
> 
> Please leave a review if you liked this chapter! <3


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